Anyone ready to kill me from all these cliffhangers lately? Show of hands!

So anyway, you guys are awesome. Thanks for all the reviews and favs. You feed my need for feedback.

It's awesome to see how many of you enjoyed Peter being the one to slay the basilisk. It just felt right. The sorting hat has brought fort the sword in canon to both Harry and Neville, two Gryffindors who questioned if they belonged there. Peter fit the bill for me, he's someone who's never thought he was good enough.

Anyway, I'm glad it was so well received.

If Someone Cared Enough

Chapter Eighty-Six: Long Winded Explanations

Severus woke with a start, his heart in his throat and terror coiling in his stomach, "No!"

A jolt of pain shot through his nerves before ebbing, little more than a spasm of his arm to show for it.

A pair of hands pushed him back down, "Calm down, Severus. You're quite safe now."

Severus looked into the twinkling blue eyes of the Headmaster, "P-professor? What…how…the basilisk…"

Dumbledore shushed him gently, "You were dreaming, dear boy. It's only a lingering memory now."

He offered Severus a glass of water, one which Severus took without question.

"With all due respect, Headmaster," Severus said after a hearty gulp. He twitched again despite his best efforts to contain it, "The basilisk was no dream. It was real."

"Of course it is," Dumbledore said simply, a smile on his face, "I'd hardly say its body down in the chamber was imaginary."

He placed a hand on the side of Severus's head, "But it cannot harm you now. When you see it in your dreams, it is little more than the ghost of your past."

"I don't understand," Severus said, looking around the hospital wing, "I don't remember getting here. Where…where are the others?"

Dumbledore stilled his questions with a raise of his hand, "Safe, all are safe. The whole school is, thanks to you."

He sat down on the edge of Severus's bed, "Your friends brought you here after you collapsed, Severus. Madam Pomfrey certainly had her hands full with you and your friends."

Dumbledore picked up Severus chart, "A fractured skull, broken clavicle, affereffects of the cruciatus curse—that's the cause of the spasms, mind you—and blood on the brain…yes, you alone took quite a bit of time. We almost had to send for St. Mungos."

"Blood on the…" Severus raised a hand to his head in a panic, feeling the bandages, "But that can cause—"

"Death of brain cells," Dumbledore finished, "Yes, I believe that is how the muggles put it. Oddly enough, it would seem that a fragment of your skull caved in and blocked much of the travel of the blood, like a damn, if you would. Damage was small, and thanks to the endeavors of Madam Pomfrey, quite repairable."

He gave Severus a knowing look, "You were rather fortunate. Some might even say…lucky."

With a smile, he pulled a familiar empty vial from his robes and set it upon the nightstand, "I believe this was found in one of your pockets."

Severus stared in confusion, "Wait…I don't understand. I never took the potion, only faked it."

Dumbledore folded his hands in his lap, looking at Severus benignly, "Tell me, Severus, did the bottle ever touch your lips?"

"Well yes," Severus admitted, "I wanted everyone to think I took it so no one would make a fuss."

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, "Miraculous potion, isn't it? It only takes one little drop for it to take effect. That's the very reason so little is given out; you only need less than a gulp to have a perfect day. So I imagine a slight taste of it would have some effect, would it not?"

"So you're saying that having a little residue on my lips dosed me with just enough luck to avoid brain damage?" Severus asked skeptically.

Dumbledore continued to smile, "As I said, it's a powerful potion."

Severus glanced at his bedside table, noting the flowers and cards splayed out across its surface. There was even a teddy bear, though Severus couldn't fathom why anyone would think he'd want the infantile thing, "What's all this?"

"Well wishes," Dumbledore stated pleasantly, "It did not escape the school's notice that several of Hogwarts brightest and bravest appeared in the hospital wing with severe injuries."

"And people were…" Severus picked up a card, the inside covered in signatures from the Herbology club he knew Professor Sprout ran on the weekends, "Worried about me?

Dumbledore beamed at him, "But of course. It's not everyday someone risks their lives to save someone they do not care for. That takes a great amount of selflessness, and I think many here at school wish to show their contrition for gravely misjudging you."

"There's so many," Severus observed, "How long have I been out?"

"You've been asleep for two weeks," Dumbledore kindly informed him, "Just in time for exams; though I understand if you and your friends would like to postpone yours after all you've been through. If you like, I can arrange for you all to take them over the summer if you choose."

"Two…weeks?" Severus croaked, "So where is everyone else?"

Dumbledore's smile never left his face, "My dear boy, I think you'll find most of them are right here."

"I'm telling you I'm fine!" came a surly from somewhere down the row of beds.

Dumbledore chuckled, "It would seem Miss Serapeum has regained her usual vigor."

Drawing back the curtain from around Severus's bed, he revealed the rest of the hospital wing, lacking the usual flurry of activity. In fact, the only students in the wing at that moment were some very familiar faces.

Lupin and Black were propped up side by side in their own beds across the way. Black looked relatively no worse for wear aside from a scar traveling over the bridge of his nose. Remus however, had a cocktail of potions set at his bedside table that spoke of things unseen by the human eye. Every so often he'd spasm or twitch quite suddenly.

They were wrapped up in a quiet conversation, and Severus couldn't help but notice how close their beds had been pushed together, clearly one of their doing.

A few beds down, James was one handedly flipping through a Quidditch magazine, seemingly unconcerned of the many scars littering one of his arms, a goopy sort of salve coating the entire limb. Mary dozed sleepily in the chair next to his bed, Potter's cloak thrown over her.

Potter merrily called out now and then to a bed directly across from him where a weary, but smiling Peter sat slumped up against some pillows. After what Severus had seen and heard down in the chamber, he found it completely unsurprising to see Marlene sitting on the edge of the Pettigrew's bed, feeding him spoonfuls of soup.

Severus sighed, judging by the frequent friendly yelling up and down the rows from the four boys, it was clear the Marauders were back together.

Nesme and Davis were perched on the end of a bed together, both equally covered in their fair share of little cuts and fading bruises, both avidly watching the spectacle unfold two beds away.

Being forcibly prevented from leaving her bed, a furious Simone was struggling within Pomfrey and Lily's grip, the pair of them attempting to corral the stubborn girl back into bed.

Simone's torso was heavily bandaged all the way up the side and partially across the left side of her chest, the wrappings peaking up over the top of her tank top. An assortment of potions similar to Lupin's sat next to her bed, one of which Pomfrey seemed to be in the process of trying to give her.

"Please stop being so dramatic, Miss Serapeum," Pomfrey ordered, "You need proper dosing and bedrest."

"I don't need any more bloody potions," Simone snarled, "I've been in this stupid bed for days; I've had all the bedrest I can stand. Where's Thea? She should be here by now."

"Simone, be reasonable," Lily pleaded, pushing Simone back onto the bed when the girl tried to stand up, "You got hit with the cruciatus at least once. Your nerves are still out of sort."

"There's nothing wrong with my—ngn—nerves," Simone insisted, even as her body momentarily contorted in pain, "I'm as healthy as a hippogriff, now let me go!"

Dumbledore chuckled merrily, his eyes twinkling, "You're not a very good patient, are you, Miss Serapeum?"

All eyes turned towards the headmaster at that.

"You!" Simone growled, her struggles beginning anew, "I've got questions for you!"

"Sev!" Lily cried happily, racing to Severus side.

"Oi! Snape's up," Black called out.

Potter laughed, "Bout time!"

"If you recall, he had a severe head injury," Remus reminded his friends with a role of his eye, "We can't all be thrown into walls and bounce up like we're made of rubber."

Black grinned, "I'm just saying, he's late to the party."

Lily took Severus hand in her own.

"How do you feel?" she asked him tenderly.

"I'm fine," Severus assured her with a soft smile, "And you?"

"Nothing serious," Lily said, "Just bruises. The rest of you took the brunt of things."

"And look like epic heroes for it," James declared proudly, showing off his arm, "I got hit with some dark curse. It didn't break the bone, it bloody well blew it up! I had bits of bone protruding out all over. Madam Pomfrey doesn't think the scars will ever truly fade," he sounded far too excited over it.

"And check me out," Black declared, pointing at his face, "Nothing sexier than a scar, eh Remus?" he winked.

Remus flushed up to the roots of his hair, "Why are you asking me?"

Mary walked up to Severus bed slowly, "Are you okay, Severus?"

"Fine," Severus replied, "I'm doing alright. I trust you're okay?"

Mary nodded, "Just a scratch. Lucky too; if it were any worse, I'm sure my parents would have pulled me from Hogwarts. They were mad enough that they and Lily's parents couldn't come visit me like everyone else's."

Severus blinked, "Our parents were here?"

"Just James' folks and Remus's dad," Lily explained, "Simone's parents too. Peter's mum as well. Those were the only folks I saw whenever I came to visit you."

"My folks were here too," Davis added, "Mum was besides herself in tears."

"My stepdad came," Nesme joined in, "He was really worried about me. He wanted to bring mum, but the spells around the castle would have left her not really knowing she was here. So he just brought a letter from her for me."

"My mum sent me a howler," Sirius said with pride, "I've disgraced the house of Black again."

"I'm grounded," Peter confessed sheepishly.

"Same," echoed several others of the group.

Severus looked worriedly at Dumbledore, "And my mum?"

Something like sadness flashed behind Dumbledore's eyes, mixed with something else. Sympathy?

"Forgive me for acting in your stead," Dumbledore apologized with genuine sincerity, "But I felt it best your mother not be informed of the matter given her current state. Had she known, she would have felt compelled to come here and given some of our visitors were from the ministry…"

"You said people like your mum get put away in St. Mungos," Lily finished softly, "No one wanted the ministry trying to haul her away."

Severus stared at Dumbledore.

"I'm afraid the ministry wouldn't understand the sensitive nature of your mother's condition," Dumbledore admitted. There was something foreign in his eyes; almost as if he could relate to Severus's predicament, "They're woefully ill-equipped to handled…delicate cases."

"You kept it a secret," Severus muttered, stunned, "Thank you…"

Dumbledore's smile was warm yet wistful.

Lily smoothed back some of Severus's hair, "We were all worried about you, you know. You were out for a long time."

"Slept through everything!" Potter called, "Lucky sod got out of being questioned by the ministry and everything."

"So what did the ministry want?" Severus questioned, turning to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore smiled again, "It would seem that several students nearly being killed falls under ministry jurisdiction Also, you all proved Hagrid's innocence in a murder committed by the beast long ago; the ministry had some interest in that as well."

"He can have a wand, Sev," Lily exclaimed excitedly, "A real wand again."

"Though he's going to have to start back at square one learning how to use it," Davis pointed out.

Severus found himself a little pleased to hear they exonerated Hagrid. Though not exactly bosom buddies with the half-giant, Severus himself knew the woes of being blamed for things he didn't due—thanks oftentimes in part to the Marauders—and being judged for his background.

"So," Severus prompted expectantly, "What did the ministry say about Riddle?"

"That's what I'd like to know," fumed Simone, having finally been wrangled back into bed, "You were pretty keen that we omit certain parts of our story when telling the officials. What gives?"

"I'm a little curious about that too," Davis admitted.

Dumbledore turned to Pomfrey, drawing the woman's attention from keeping Simone pressed firmly against her pillows.

"Poppy," he said kindly, "Would you be so kind as to give me and my students a moment alone? There is much we have to discuss."

Incredibly hesitant to leave her charges, Pomfrey nodded, sending a wary glance at Simone before heading into her office.

"Now," Dumbledore began once the coast was clear, "I understand you all have some concerns."

"You bet we do!" Spat Simone, "Why couldn't we tell the ministry what we know? Tom Riddle was—is—Voldemort. And he's creating Horcruxes! Surely the ministry would be interested in knowing that."

James nodded, "And Peter's a bloody hero! The guy kills a basilisk and you're asking us to keep that a secret?"

Peter blushed, ducking his head down as Marlene cooed over him.

The others were inclined to agree.

Dumbledore tipped his head towards Peter, eyes twinkling merrily, "Yes, Peter showed great bravery down in the Chamber. To pull the Sword of Gryffindor from the sorting hat could only be done by someone worry of the House. You must have shown great loyalty down there."

Peter flushed embarrassed as all eyes turned to him, "Yes, well...I'm just glad everyone's alright."

"Wait a second; the Sword of Gryffindor?" Sirius blurted out.

"Focus! We're supposed to be fighting You-Know-Who," Nesme pointed out, "Wouldn't what we've learned be good information to have, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore shook his head, "In this case, I'm afraid not."

"Why not?" James asked, "It turns out the feared Dark Lord is a half blood; I bet if we blabbed, Sirius's batty cousin and all her rotten friends would turn on him in an instant."

Dumbledore raised a hand, silencing him.

"You are assuming fanaticism can be changed by logic," Dumbledore said, "The level of devotion Bellatrix has to her master is seated deep in instability and corruption. I hardly doubt knowing the truth of her master's origin will shake his most loyal follower's commitment to harming muggles."

"But it could destabilize some of his power," Severus argued, "It's not just his Death Eaters that pose a threat; it's the average citizen he wins over with his campaign against muggleborns. They may not join the fight, but he's got them in his pocket, convinced them to not stand against him. That's hundreds of people he's convinced to do nothing, losing us much needed people on our side."

"History books say Grindelwald used similar tactics," Remus added, "He had less soldiers than he had supporters, all people willing to stand in compliance to him instead of aiding the Light. Just having all those people singing his praising and further deluding others weakened the Light's side."

"You don't have to actually kill someone to help with his cause," Lily pointed out, "Just the mere act of inaction is enough. Those who stand blindly by and let him get away with it are help enough for him."

Dumbledore nodded, taking all their concerns calmly into consideration, "That is true, as the muggles say, 'those who do nothing do more harm than good'."

"So then why do nothing?" Simone asked in outrage.

"What about the horcruxes then?" Severus inquired with more than a little irritation, "Surely the ministry should know there's more out there."

"It is my belief that such knowledge is better left hidden," Dumbledore said sagely.

"What?" Lily gasped, "Why? Don't you want to get the ministry involved in destroying them?"

Dumbledore turned to her.

"The horcruxes must be destroyed," he agreed, "But this cannot be the ministry's fight."

"Why in the hell not?" Simone snapped impatiently.

"Tell me, what do you all know about horcruxes?" Dumbledore asked instead.

The gang looked around, blank, unsure expressions on their faces.

"They're a piece of someone's soul," Davis answered as best he could.

"And you make them by killing someone else," Lily added.

"It's the foulest magic known to man," Severus said darkly with a heavy scowl.

Dumbledore nodded, "Indeed it is. Now, what isn't known is how a person is affected by the severing of a part of themselves, what connection they may or may not still have with it. All that remains a mystery, mainly because so few have ever been so corrupt as to attempt such a feat."

"What is known," he continued, "Is that the intention of a horcrux is to prolong one's life. To overcome death, if you will. It is because of this importance, that a horcrux is a sacred thing to its maker, valued above all else. Just the possibility that someone may try to destroy it makes its creator very insistent on its protection."

"The ministry is not infallible," Dumbledore went on, "As you have no doubt surmised, Severus, there is a very strong possibility that some of Voldemort's followers lurk within its walls."

Severus nodded, "Lucius family has ties to the ministry."

"Indeed," Dumbledore intoned, "Now, the aurors I trust most highly have been told the truth, have accessed the basilisk with their own eyes. But no other officials, not even the aurors' partners, were permitted to enter the chamber. If I were to tell the ministry what you've all told me, and that information were to fall into Voldemort's hands, I dare say his remaining horcruxes would not be so easily found."

"He'd hide them," Remus realized, "Guard them more heavily."

Everyone exchanged worried glances.

"So what does the ministry know?" Mary asked.

"For now, all the ministry knows is that a student was abducted to a segment of the castle once thought inaccessible," Dumbledore answered, "An unknown man attacked you, claiming to be the murderer of Myrtle Warren, having hidden within the recesses of the school ever since, becoming more and more deranged. When you defended yourselves, he fled, leaving you all very injured. As far as the ministry knows, that man is still at large, and in way, he is."

"I take it our families were given similar stories?" Davis asked.

"Yes," Dumbledore replied, "And while it is at your discretion whether you tell them the truth, I sincerely ask that you consider the importance of secrecy."

"We the less the ministry knows the better," Simone drawled, "Yada, yada, yada. Can I get out of here now? I'm getting cabin fever."

Dumbledore inclined his head minutely at Simone, "By all means, I will not keep you further, provide you take care of yourself. I'll speak with Madam Pomfrey about your release."

"Good," Simone huffed, shakily swinging her feet over the side of the bed, "I can't wait to get out of here. I'm surprised Thea hasn't stop by yet today."

"My dear girl," Dumbledore said, "Miss Mnemosyne was taken home by her parents this morning."

Simone froze.

"They said they had a family emergency they needed to attend to," Dumbledore explained.

Simone hefted herself out of bed, dropping to one knee in pain.

"Simone!" Nesme exclaimed, moving towards her.

Simone pushed her away, struggling quickly to her feet. With one last panicked look at Dumbledore, Simone sped out of the hospital wing, the doors slamming closed behind her.

"Simone!" Severus called, moving to get out of bed.

"Let her go," Dumbledore said calmly, staring serenely at the door, "She has her own journey to begin."

The others stared at each other in bafflement, unease filling them.

"Now," Dumbledore went on, "There is one more matter I would like to discuss. Does anyone happened to know what happened to Professor Slughorn? The man was found quite disoriented in his office."

Severus and Lily exchanged sheepish glances while Potter and Black snickered at them.

{page break}

The room was cold like a crypt, devoid of warmth and as silent as the absence of life. Shadows played tricks upon stone, cast not by the warming flicker of firelight, but the icy blue glow of a wand.

Augustus Rookwood approached his master cautiously, searching for any sign of impending ire in those fathomless, unfeeling eyes.

He'd been summoned immediately after work, his master no doubt intentionally waiting until ten minutes after Rookwood's usual clock out time to call for him. His master knew by now with practice eased just how long it took his servant to make it far enough from the building to not be spotted when the mark on his arm burned his flesh demandingly.

Rookwood approached low, midway between a crouch and a bow, ready to kneel and grovel if need be.

"My Lord," he called questioningly, "You summoned me?"

Voldemort sat commandingly in a chair in the main hall of Lestrange Manor, the sparse, minimalist furnishings a reflection of the cold emptiness surrounding not only Bellatrix's and her husband's hearts, but their very souls.

Hair receding not with age but with years of foul depravity, as if whatever made him human was fleeing him, Voldemort was a stark contrast to his teenage self, to even who he was a few short months ago. The deeper he fell from light's love and compassion, the more twisted his visage became.

"Rookwood," Voldemort said softly, not bothering to look at the man yet, "You bring news from the ministry, do you not?"

Rookwood nodded nervously, "Yes, my Lord. There was been talk all over the ministry, talk of an attack at Hogwarts. Word even reached the Department of Mysteries."

Voldemort hummed, low and quiet, almost innocently speculative, though Rookwood knew better.

"And would this talk have anything to do with this?" Voldemort asked, unfurling something from a nearby table with a flick of his wand.

A breaking news edition of the Daily Prophet stared Rookwood in the face, a large, grinning man looking back at him from an immensely thick and messy beard.

'Hogwarts Groundskeeper Vindicated, Ministry Issues Apology,' sat emblazoned across the top.

"T-they're saying that a murderer was discovered hiding in the school," Rookwood explained, though he was sure his master had already gleamed that from whatever the Prophet had written, "That some death the half-giant was expelled for was found to be committed by someone else. They say students were attacked by him."

"Interesting," Voldemort said as if commenting on something as mundane as the weather, "It would seem they've not listed the attacker name. I was hoping you could shed better light on this."

"My Lord," Rookwood began, "Gossip travels quickly, but it's rarely good for factual specifics. No one's got a name; supposedly the man never gave one before fleeing the school."

He looked curiously at his master, wondering why the case held such interest for him to begin with, "Do you suppose there isn't someone at all? That maybe Dumbledore fabricated this whole thing to try and make his half-giant look innocent?"

"Oh I know that lumbering fool is innocent," Voldemort said with some level of satisfied amusement. The smile slipped from his face a moment later, "What I'm wondering is who could have come forward to claim responsibility for the crime."

At Rookwood's questioning look, Voldemort simply said, "I assure you, the true killer has no never seen a need to come forward; the death was paltry compared to what they went on to do."

He offered no other explanation, leaving Rookwood more puzzled than assuaged.

"It seems odd then that they wouldn't release at the very least a vague description of him," Voldemort mused, "Surely the students would recall his looks. There's very little hope of finding a killer on the loose if they can't even give citizens a face to look out for."

Rookwood worried his hands, "I-I don't know what to tell you, my Lord. I can't actually approach the aurors who handled the case without raising suspicion; someone of my department has no feasible dealings with them. Mainly the focus of chatter around the office has been more on the fact that it happened at the school. The fact that the killers been hiding there this whole time is—"

"He's been what?" Voldemort interrupted, intrigued.

"That's what everyone's been saying," Rookwood answered, "What the students told authorities. Apparently they found him in some unknown part of the school, or he brought them there, or—"

The cut off from Voldemort was sharper this time, "What place do you speak of?"

Rookwood stumbled back a few feet, "M-my lord, I do not know. It's supposed to be some inaccessible place, not even the professors knew of it allegedly."

Rookwood cowered away from his master's fiery gaze, dropping to kneel his master's feet.

"My knowledge of the matter is limited," Rookwood pled, "My department holds no power of the affairs of the aurors or the school. I'm merely repeating what I've heard."

"Which has proven to be very little," Voldemort said with harsh disapproval.

Rookwood swallowed thickly, wracking his brain for any sort of information that Voldemort would deem useful.

"Some are saying," he paused, starting over, "Some are saying…that some of the aurors…well they…"

Voldemort waved his hand impatiently, "Do get on with it Rookwood. I don't not like to be kept waiting."

Rookwood stared at the floor meekly, "They section off a place in the school for investigation, but it was strangest place. A bathroom, my Lord. On the second floor. That hardly sounds like a hidden part of the school if you ask me."

A thunderous expression passed over Voldemort's face, the fury so powerful Rookwood found himself too petrified to move.

"M-my Lord?" he stammered fearfully.

He never saw the curse coming.

Rookwood dropped to the floor, his entire body aflame. Every muscle, every cell, even his bones felt like they were crying out in agony, electrified with pain.

Voldemort lifted the Crucio, leaving Rookwood a twitchy, aching mess on the floor. Regarding his follower with contempt, he abandoned Rookwood to his suffering, the Dark Lord apparating on the spot.

He reappeared in the middle of a spacious sitting room, startling its occupants, the color draining from their face at the sight of him there.

"My Lord," Lucius cried, jumping up from his chair.

Narcissa sat wide-eyed, alarm ringing inside her head; the Dark Lord didn't make house calls.

Voldemort stared disdainfully down at Lucius, a sneer stretching across his face as Malfoy bleated out his praise and devotion, what an honor it was to have the Dark Lord in his home.

"Rise, Lucius," Voldemort commanded, "I'm not here for pleasantries."

"Of course not, My Lord," Lucius agreed, still groveling, "Someone of your esteem and breeding has no need for inane idle talk."

"Quite," Voldemort said, "I'm here on very important business."

He waved his wand and threw Lucius back into the chair he'd vacated, drawing a squeak of fear from the man's wife.

"Tell me, Lucius," Voldemort said, pulling the Daily Prophet from his robes, "What do you make of this?"

Lucius read the headline, puzzled, "I don't understand, My Lord."

"That oaf Hagrid was exonerated of his crime," Voldemort stated, turning the paper into ashes.

Narcissa winced at the blackened soot falling on the carpet.

"A crime he didn't commit," Voldemort went on, circling Lucius's chair, "A crime that great pride was taken in. Do you happened to know why this displeases me?"

Lucius fumbled for an answer, shooting concerned looks to his wife, "I'm afraid I don't, My Lord."

"No," Voldemort said in a high dangerous voice, "Pity, but perhaps you'll have the answer to this question."

He whipped around to the front of the chair, hands clamping down on the arm rests as he glared menacingly at Lucius.

"Where's the book I gave you?"

I always wondered just how badly Voldemort took the news in canon that Malfoy got one of his horcruxes destroyed. I always imagine Voldemort intending to use the thing to revive himself in a more controlled setting, like having a captive brought to a death eater hideout and forcing them to use it so it may drain the life from them. While I'm sure the basilisk in the Chamber was tempting to use again, I doubt he'd risk the diary just for the chance to revive within the school. He probably would have preferred to revive himself and then breech Hogwarts defense while at his strongest to unleash the basilisk. So Malfoy really screwed the pooch in canon. Of course...what did you expect when Voldemort gave Malfoy the horcrux without telling him it was a FUCKING HORCRUX!

So Hagrid gets his wand back, yay! It always bugged me that Dumbledore never bothered to clear his name, even after Harry defeated the diary. I mean, Voldemort emerged as an unknown entity while Tom Riddle disappeared into obscurity, barely remembered. Dumbledore could have easily said that Harry encountered the missing Tom Riddle and that he was the one who killed Myrtle. He wouldn't have even needed to mention Voldemort. It wouldn't be that hard to believe that a perfect student went bad; by the time Harry fought Riddle in the Chamber, Barty Crouch Jr had already been in outed and imprisoned as a death eater despite his fathers standing as a fighter for the light.

So anyone glad the drama is over? Well too bad! There's more to come!

Tune in next time!

Review please :)